Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,

A constant influence, a peculiar grace;

But who, if he be called upon to face

Some awful moment to which heaven has join'd
Great issues, good or bad for human-kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired

With sudden brightness like a Man inspired;
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,

Come when it will, is equal to the need:

He who, though thus endued as with a sense

And faculty for storm and turbulence,

Is yet a Soul whose master bias leans

To home-felt pleasures and to gentle scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity

It is his darling passion to approve;

More brave for this, that he hath much to love:

"Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,

Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye,
Or left unthought-of in obscurity,
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not,
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be won;
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;

Who, not content that former worth stand fast,

Looks forward, persevering to the last,

From well to better, daily self-surpast:

Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth

For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,

Or He must go to dust without his fame,
And leave a dead unprofitable name,

Finds comfort in himself and in his cause;
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause;
This is the happy Warrior; this is He
Whom every Man in arms should wish to be.

The above Verses were written soon after tidings had been received of the Death of Lord Nelson, which event directed the Author's thoughts to the subject. His respect for the memory of his great fellow-countryman induces him to mention this; though he is well aware that the Verses musi suffer from any connection in the Reader's mind with a Name so illustrious.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.

When the Brothers reach'd the gateway,

Eustace pointed with his lance

To the Horn which there was hanging;

Horn of the inheritance.

Horn it was which none could sound,

No one upon living ground,

Save He who came as nightful Heir

To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

Heirs from ages without record

Had the House of Lucie born,

Who of right had claim'd the Lordship
By the proof upon the Horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn, it own'd his power;

He was acknowledged: and the blast

Which good Sir Eustace sounded was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,

And to Hubert thus said he,

"What I speak this Horn shall witness

"For thy better memory.

"Hear, then, and neglect me not!

"At this time, and on this spot,

"The words are utter'd from my heart,

"As my last earnest prayer ere we depart